


The Last Hour

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2201388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione and Cormac’s weekend comes to an end</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Hour

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 3 of Take a Chance and follows [The Morning After](http://inell.livejournal.com/828237.html) . As always, please let me now if I need to add warnings/keywords.

“Have you seen my stockings?”

“Check under the table. I can’t find my right sock.”

“I think it’s in the bathroom.”

“How did it end up in the bathroom?”

“How did my stockings end up under the table?”

“Point. You do realize that you’re going to have to assist me in locating all of the buttons you so carelessly sent everywhere?”

“You’re _still_ missing some? Bloody hell, Cormac. Just conjure new ones. We don’t have time to find the ones that didn’t even come when you used accio.”

“Those are very expensive buttons, Hermione. I’m not going to just leave them in some Muggle hotel room.”

“Are you seriously pouting over buttons?” Hermione stops her search for her stockings in order to look at him. “You ruined my knickers, and I’ve had to toss them in the rubbish because there was no way to repair them. You don’t hear me whining.”

“I offered to repair them. You’re the one who is too particular.” Cormac gives her a look. “They were cheap cotton anyway. It’s not as if you’d even be able to tell they were repaired by the time I was finished.”

“I’m not going to argue about this with you anymore. My knickers are not your concern.” Hermione sniffs and tilts her chin up to dismiss the topic of conversation. “Find your own buttons.”

“Your knickers _are_ my concern, sweetheart. Don’t fret. I’ll buy you knew ones. Silk and lace. Some that I can enjoy,” he says, smirking as he leers at her.

She arches a brow. “I didn’t realize you were interested in women’s knickers. Is it the silk you enjoy against your skin or the lace? I’d imagine that the lace might irritate the sensitive skin of your dick, but perhaps that’s what you enjoy?”

Cormac blinks at her before he laughs. “Oh, it’s the silk. Nothing like a scrap of silk hugging my arse to make a man feel sexy.” He winks at her before bending down and pulling her stockings out from under the sofa. “Looking for these?”

“You probably _would_ feel sexy in women’s knickers,” she says, rolling her eyes even as she resists smiling. It’s unusual to be with a man who as confident as Cormac. Most of the men in her life would, sadly, have a fit at the insinuation they’d wear women’s knickers. Cormac just smirks and provides her with a mental image that makes her think he’d look good in whatever he wore. She crosses the sitting area so she can get her stockings from him, but he holds them above her head. “Give me those.”

“Nuh uh. Not until you pay the price.” He is far too smug. She’s fighting the conflicting urge to either slap his face or kiss him rotten. Oddly enough, that urge seems to define their relationship rather well, thus far. He dangles the stocking down closer then jerks them up when she makes an attempt to grab them.

“This is a wonderful display of your maturity, McLaggen. Perhaps I need to rethink whether I wish to date a toddler or not.” She frowns when he just chuckles and gives her a superior look that calls her bluff. “You’re not Charon, so what’s this price nonsense?”

“Your stockings might not be a ferry ride across the river Styx or Acheron, but I do think they are nearly as important, so the price is high.” Cormac smirks when she stares at him with wide eyes. “I do know how to read, Granger, and Uncle Tiberius has always been fascinated by Muggle religions so he has an extensive library. Are you so used to be surrounded by those who can’t keep up with you intellectually that it makes you speechless when someone actually can?”

Hermione recovers quickly because he’s just such an arse. “You might be surprisingly clever, but it takes more than knowledge of ancient mythology to make me speechless. I do have to say that it is much more arousing to hear you speak like that then it is to consider you in silk knickers.”

“Is that so? Will you get wet if I recite the legends of Athena? She’s always been my favorite, you know? Strong, brave, intelligent, beautiful. Much like a certain pain in my arse witch,” Cormac murmurs, deliberately lowering his voice and speaking in the sexy way he has all weekend when he’s using his words to arouse her. “I always pitied her, though. She never finds love, never experiences passion, never consorts with a lover who is her equal.”

“Perhaps she is happier with her wisdom and guidance of others,” Hermione says, forgetting about the stockings as she listens to Cormac. She knows the comparison that he’s drawing, but she doesn’t feel offended by it. “She doesn’t need pity for making a choice that takes her down a path that you don’t understand. I’m surprised that you choose her as a favorite instead of, oh, the legend of Cupid and Psyche?”

Cormac scoffs. “Sexual attraction that leads to obsession and immortal love? There’s no real struggle for both of them there, is there? The poor girl is left to do these insane tasks in order to prove herself to someone who lied to her from the start. Not my cuppa, sweetheart. I’m about honesty and passion that doesn’t come from deceit.”

“What’s your price?” she asks, reaching out to stroke his jaw. She drags her thumb over his plump bottom lip. “Shall I have to fulfill tasks in order to retrieve my stockings?”

“Twelve labors?” Cormac flicks his tongue out to lick at her thumb. “Or perhaps we can veer to another Muggle mythology, and I can request one thousand and one nights with you?” He sucks on the tip of her thumb before lightly scraping his teeth against her skin. It’s such a simple action, but she finds it incredibly arousing, especially coupled with their rather intellectual discussion. The sound of his voice _does_ things to her. “While I certainly haven’t been with a thousand women like Shahryar, and I wouldn’t behead them even for cheating, I can understand the concept of seeking something that excites me.”

“You’d better not condone the man’s actions with those poor women,” she mutters, stepping closer to him. “Making others suffer for the actions of one woman is preposterous, and I remember hating the character when my mother gave me that book.”

Cormac smiles. “You were probably young when you read it, precocious and not at all swayed by the romantic notion of falling in love because of words.” He arches a brow and moves his hand to her face. “No, I think I’m wrong. I think you _were_ swayed, far more than any of those other silly fairy stories Muggles tell their children, and it frustrates you that others can’t see the romance when stories and words excite you so very much.”

“It’s been less than forty-eight hours that we’ve really taken the time to get to know each other. Don’t presume to know everything about me in such a short time.” She’s a little sharper than she plans because he’s right, and she finds it disconcerting that he has figured her out that much during just two days when she doubts people who have been close with her for decades would know that about her.

“Don’t get snippy. We’re just talking, getting to know each other.” Cormac brushes her hair back from her face. “I was going to suggest that you could be my Scheherazade, but I had it all wrong. I understand it now, though, and I know what you need. I can give it to you, Hermione.”

“What are you nattering on about, Cormac?” She leans up to nip at his bottom lip. “We’re talking about my stockings and your price.”

Cormac laughs softly. “We’re talking about a lot more than that, and you know it. This weekend of escape is about to end, but it’s not our end. We’ve already agreed, so be aware that I’m just as stubborn and obnoxious as you are when it comes to something I want. You’re not rid of me when you walk out that door.”

Hermione stares at him. “We’ve already discussed this, several times. I’m not going to get cold feet just because we return to our daily lives. I _like_ you, much as it pains me to admit it because of that smug smirk you’re displaying at this very moment. While the sex is admittedly amazing, stop preening, it’s not just that keeping me interested. You’re a Pureblood arsehole who can discuss Muggle mythology. You’re obsessed with bloody Quidditch, but you can hold entire conversations about the Ministry’s latest policies and their effect on the population. You’re not as clever as I am, but few people are, and you still manage to say things that make me think and reconsider my opinions.”

“I’m also fit and sexy,” he adds with a cheeky grin. He’s lost the smugness, though, and he almost looks shy after her comments. It’s those glimpses of humility that intrigue her and let her know there’s more to him than what she’s always assumed. She’s enjoying discovering who he really is as they spend time together.

“Yes, well, I think we’ve already established that. Sexual compatibility is not in question. However, we wouldn’t be making plans that extend beyond the bedroom if there wasn’t more to it.” She shrugs. “I get bored easily, I’m a workaholic, I have to be shared with my friends, and I can be a bossy swot sometimes so my relationship history is rather sparse. If you’re willing to give me a chance, I’m certainly willing to take the chance on you.”

“I was willing back when I was seventeen, even though I went about it the wrong way and was an absolute git, but I’m still interested, if not moreso now that I’m an adult and can appreciate more than a nice set of tits and pretty face.” Cormac grins. “I’d say we’ve established that you no longer mind my wandering hands, after all.”

“You were horrid back then,” Hermione says, making a face. “That kiss was bloody awful, you realize? Even if I’d had an open mind about exploring an attraction to a smug Quidditch player who talked about himself more than anyone else, that kiss would have convinced me not to bother.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad.” Cormac frowns. “You were wiggling all over and not cooperative at all. Yes, I know I should have understood the signs and not forced the kiss, but I was too self-involved to consider that someone might not be interested. I still thought it was a decent kiss. Made me wank more than once thinking about where it could have led if you hadn’t been an uptight priss with her knickers in a twist over Weasley.”

“Merlin, I’m glad you’ve learned more about kissing if you think that was good. You were trying to eat my face, it seemed, and there was so much tongue that I felt as if you were trying to lick me instead of kiss me. We won’t even talk about the hands groping me places no one else had ever touched.” She snorts. “Of course that gets you smug more than a decade later. Did you really wank about me?”

“Do you even have to ask that question? Half of Hogwarts wanked about you, Potter’s Golden Girl, the girl who stole Krum’s heart, the girl who defied the Pureblood propaganda about Muggleborns. I got to kiss you and felt you up enough that I had an added dimension to the wanking is all.” 

“You’re mental.” Hermione smiles. “And we managed to lose the mood, haven’t we? I was all set for one last time before we have to leave, but I suppose we probably should finish finding our clothes and get ready. I still have several errands to run, and I need to go home to shower and change out of my wedding clothes before I do or else I’ll end up in the Prophet with Parvati Patil eluding to a torrid secret affair or gossipy nonsense of some sort. No matter how many times I ask her to leave me out of her column, she seems to think I’m just joking and don’t mind that the public wants to know about my boring life.”

“Well, she wouldn’t be lying this time, would she? We did spend the weekend having a torrid affair, even if it won’t be secret for long, and I’m happy to give her something to write about so your adoring fans are aware that you’re off the market and fortunate enough to land a man as amazing as me.” Cormac leans down and brushes a kiss against her mouth. “We still have nearly an hour before I have to return my key. Seems a shame to not enjoy every galleons’ worth of the place, doesn’t it? I think we can get the mood back.”

“Possibly. An hour isn’t much time, but it’s more than enough for us to both orgasm.” Hermione smiles when he blinks at her. She does love catching him off guard. “I have all my clothes once you finally give me my stockings, but we still need to figure out how to solve your button problem. They’re far too expensive to just leave lying hiding somewhere, correct?”

“I’ll deal with my buttons. Let’s focus on those orgasms that you casually mentioned.” Cormac tosses the stockings on the chair before he moves his hands down to rest on her hips. “We’ll make it fast, since I know you’ve still got things to do before the work week starts, and I actually do, too.” He kisses her as he tugs on the skirt of her dress, soon baring her to the room. When she feels his fingers on her, she shifts and tries to get comfortable, but standing in the middle of the room isn’t the best position when trying to have rushed sex.

“We should move to the sofa. I think it’ll be easier there.” She waits for his nod of approval before walking over and sitting down. “Unfasten your trousers. Don’t bother taking them off, just shove them and you pants down around your thighs. Merlin, you’ve got great thighs.”

“Left your skirt and touch yourself for me. Get yourself wet. Do you want to use the charm or do you think we can manage it naturally?” He’s standing there above her stroking his cock and watching her touch herself. It’s not enough to get the mood completely back, but it’s a good start.

“We can probably do it naturally. Do we have time for you to lick me? Seeing your face down there always seems to do the trick.” She bats her eyelashes and tries to be coy, but she’s not very good at it. “I’ll owe you one.”

Cormac laughs. “I think you owe me about six after this weekend, sweetheart. You’ll pay up, too. I can’t wait to slide inside that pretty little mouth of yours and feel that wicked tongue driving me wild.”

Hermione bites her lip, the sound of his voice helping get the mood back pretty quickly. “I do apologize for not being equal when it comes to oral sex this weekend. I’m not normally a greedy lover, I don’t think, but you never insisted and it’s not my favorite act to perform usually.”

“Did you actually just apologize for not sucking me off? Bloody hell, Hermione. If it mattered that much, I’d have asked. Anyway, I enjoy you riding my face or my cock enough that no apologies are necessary.” Cormac shakes his head and grins at her as he kneels down. “Besides, it gives me something to look forward to. Instead of stories, I can think of sexy things I want us to do and stop every night before we do another. I can be your Scheherazade, and after a thousand nights, you’ll never want to let me go.”

Before she can answer, he laps at her, dragging his tongue across her lips to her clit. They’d don’t have enough time for him to tease, so he focuses on getting her wet enough for him to slide inside without causing discomfort. She loves this, he’s so good at it, and he seems to really enjoy giving her pleasure, but she does miss his voice when his mouth is otherwise occupied. She can hear him slurping at her, and she’s wet enough that his fingers make a squishing sort of noise as he thrusts them inside. He twists his wrist, rubbing at a spot that makes her gasp, and she looks down to see him staring at her, face wet and lips curved into a small private smile.

“You like that, don’t you? Like feeling my fingers buried inside you? You’re already so flushed, Hermione, and I’ve barely started. If we had time, I’d savor the taste of you, lap at your until you come, over and over, using my fingers to stroke those sweet spots that make you see stars, lick you from arse to clit, use my fingers back there, let you see if you like it or not because I’d bet you’ve never tried it. I’ll take you apart, put you back together then take you apart again and again.” 

“Cormac,” she whines, arching her back and pressing down against his hand. “Inside me. Now.”

“Fuck.” Cormac pulls his fingers out of her, licking at them as he positions himself over her. She leans up to catch one of them, sucking her own juices off his skin, smirking when he whimpers and ruts against her. “You’re bloody evil,” he says, kissing her hard as he reaches down and presses the head of his cock inside her. With one deep thrust, he’s inside her. She wraps her legs around him and meets his thrusts, tugging on his hair as they kiss. There’s nothing gentle or playful about this. They both know it’s their last time before this magical weekend ends, and they’re both a little desperate, she thinks, to make it unforgettable.

When his hips start to stutter, he reaches between them and fingers her clit, giving her the friction she needs. She comes first, but he soon follows, grunting against her mouth before spilling inside her. They lie together for several minutes, panting and kissing and touching. 

Finally, she knows they can’t put it off any longer. She kisses his face, his forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, then his lips. When they separate, she smiles slightly. “I need to clean up now, Cormac. It’s time to go.”

“Right. Okay.” He sighs before he shifts, sliding out of her and getting to his feet. He reaches for his wand and performs a cleaning charm on both of them before fastening his trousers. “When can I see you again, Hermione?”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she says, getting to her feet and running her fingers through her hair. “Since it hasn’t come up before, I want to be clear that this thing between us? I don’t want it to interfere with our jobs. No quickies in my office or the lift at the Ministry. We can have lunch together occasionally, and we’ll work together like professional adults. Outside of work, we can date, have sex, and see what happens. Is that agreeable?”

“I’d already made plans to lay you out on the desk in front of the Wizengamot and make them watch. Whatever will I do if I’m unable to carry out that plan?” he asks dryly, arching a brow and looking at her. “I’m professional, alright? I know your reputation, and I’m not going to jeopardize either of our jobs by being unable to control myself for a few hours. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about seeing you casually or in a work environment. I want to take you out on a date. Dinner one night?”

“I know that you’re professional, Cormac. I just wanted to be clear so there’s no misunderstandings or miscommunications. Dinner sounds lovely. Maybe Wednesday? Monday is always busy for me, so I work late, and I usually meet Harry and Ron on Tuesdays for dinner at Seamus’ pub.” Hermione knows she’s going to have to deal with a lot of ribbing and possibly glaring when she tells her boys that she’s going to be dating Cormac, but it’s worth it. _He’s_ worth it.

“Wednesday is good. For the record, if Potter or Weasley or any of your little interfering friends try hexing me, I’m not holding back,” he says. “I know what happened to that bloke in Finance who tried to ask you out last year.”

“That bloke in Finance wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Anthony decided to make it clear to him before I had the opportunity out of some misguided attempt to save the man from my wrath,” she says primly. “I can take care of myself. If my friends interfere, it’s usually to save the target from dealing with me.”

“I can understand the meaning of the word no, not that you’ve been saying anything but yes, Cormac, more you sexy wizard.” He laughs when she gives him an unimpressed look before he turns serious. “Be careful apparating home, Hermione. I’ll stop by to see you tomorrow, if you’re in the office, and we’ll plan to go for dinner Wednesday. If anything changes, just let me know, and we can reschedule. I know how work can get.”

“You do the same. I know you’ve been working on the case against Oakley, and it’s probably headed to the Wizengamot soon.” She decides not to bother putting on her stockings. She just tosses them into her bag. After making sure she has everything, she walks over to Cormac and smiles. “Thank you for a surprisingly enjoyable weekend, McLaggen.”

“Anytime, Granger. And I do mean _any_ time. I’m just an owl or Floo call away,” he drawls, using the lazy sexy tone that makes her breasts tingle. “I’ll add you to my personal network when I get home.”

“I will, too. Just don’t surprise me if at all possible to avoid. I’m not fond of surprise visitors.” 

“No promises. I wouldn’t want to lie to you, even inadvertently.” He shrugs a broad shoulder and smiles sheepishly. “You should go now. I still have buttons to locate, and I’m not sure I can continue resisting the urge to reach out and hold you tight and not let go.”

“I’ll go.” She tilts her head back before leaning up and kissing him. It’s a gentle kiss, chaste in a way, and she knows it’s not good that she feels a spark even from that. She very well might be in over her head this time, and she’s not sure if she’s ready to fall or not. Stepping back, she feels flushed and uncertain and a little scared. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cormac. Good-bye.” She takes one last look at him before she apparates home, immediately falling onto her sofa and staring at the ceiling. “Bloody hell, what have I done?”

End


End file.
